


cruising through the doom days

by AndreaLyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2020-05-12 01:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19219045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: Alex Manes is in the family business -- saving people, hunting aliens. The problem is that after he meets Michael Guerin on a hunt, those doubts about whether he's truly a Manes man are only getting worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the tumblr prompt that grew wings. Thanks to [islndgurl777](https://archiveofourown.org/users/islndgurl777) for the beta and to the anon who requested this, I hope this satisfies your request!

The Roswell crash of 1947 is a legend in the hunting community. There are whole sects of hunters who focus specifically on these aliens, who landed and scattered throughout the states with their own powers. They talk about pods that kept some of them in stasis, which means that the aliens can range from being very young to very old, but one thing stays the same – 

They have powers and they’re dangerous. 

Some hunters don’t believe in them. They think it’s a fringe part of the community and choose to keep their focus on the supernatural and not the interplanetary, but since 1947, the Manes family hasn’t been one of them. Back then, they’d been mainly focused on hunting vampires and werewolves, but Alex’s grandfather had been in Roswell that fateful night. 

Alex had grown up on bedtime stories about his grandfather and his brothers hunting the aliens before they could hurt the people in Roswell. Those values had been passed down to Jesse Manes and Jesse had passed them down to Alex and his brothers. 

“Aliens are evil,” Jesse says, before every hunt. “They are dangerous and they want to destroy humanity. We’re going to stop them.” 

It didn’t help that the first one they tracked down had the ability to pass electrical currents through a living body, killing them with a single touch, which solidified Alex’s fear and cemented his belief that his father was right.

Aliens needed to be stopped. The only problem is that Alex has never really wanted to be the one to stop them.

His brothers are all about the hunting life and Alex had fallen in line, even though he’d wanted to have a normal life. His ideal life hadn’t been one where he took down aliens, but one where he ignored them and tried to stay out of their path. If they’re evil, if they need to be stopped, he’ll leave that to the hunters.

Alex had only wanted to make music.

Jesse Manes hadn’t been willing to let that happen, because the Manes boys are hunters. Alex doesn’t get a reprieve just because he has another dream, and short of running away from the family, he can’t escape his destiny.

It's a destiny that’s led them to a new hunt. 

They’re in Albuquerque at one of the shitty motels to stake out reports of an alien murdering people with a single touch of his hand. When Alex had finished with his research, he’d decided he needed to pack up his laptop and get a drink. Flint had barely let him leave, but Alex is old enough not to give a shit anymore, pushing his brother’s hand off him. 

He goes to the closest bar to the motel, which unfortunately turns out to be one of the busiest. 

“Is it always this noisy?” Alex complains to the bartender, still staring at his hands and trying to ignore the chaotic thrum around him.

The bartender looks at him with pity (his gaze sliding over Alex’s body with an interest he doesn’t think he’s imagining) and Alex glances up to find one of the most handsome and interesting men in his vision. “You came in on Thursday,” he says. “It’s party night for UNM,” he shouts above the noise. “Good for me to help pay off my tuition, bad for passing truckers.”

“I’m not a trucker,” Alex insists defensively.

“I saw all the flannel and assumed…”

“Well, I’m _not_.” 

The bartender holds up both hands like he’s willing to drop the topic, even if he looks amused to be doing it, and half like he’s only doing it because he doesn’t believe him. “What’re you drinking?” 

“Whatever’s on tap,” Alex says, digging out a few bills to pay for it, noticing that he’s getting low. He knows that what means. Within the next few weeks, his father’s going to ask him to skim a few ATMs to make sure that they have enough money to finish the hunt. Maybe he can grab a little extra and get home. Maybe he can put his resources into finding where his Mom ran to and see if he can’t join her.

The bartender comes back with his drink, setting it down and leaning forward, his curls falling on his forehead. “I’m Michael,” he calls above the music. “And you are?”

He shakes his head, because names aren’t something that you give out on a job. There’s too much to connect the Manes family to the stories running out there and the last thing Alex wants is another lecture from his father about how Alex isn’t taking this job seriously.

Michael shakes his head with an amused smirk. “Seriously?”

“Sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…I don’t trust you.”

“All right then, Captain Flannel, have it your way.” 

Because it’s so busy, his attention is quickly co-opted by guys buying drinks to impress girls, and the girls who keep trying to come up and flirt with Michael for free drinks. Alex also has to turn down a few co-eds who get the idea that they can charm him for a night.

It’s not that he’s against that, but his attention is fixed in a very specific place.

He watches Michael’s steady hands pour drinks, the strong line of his back as he hauls boxes and flats of glasses into the bar area to replace the old ones. Every time Michael pushes his hair out of his face and it falls right back in, Alex thinks about digging his hands into those curls to pin them in place by force of his hand as he fucks him.

It's been way too long since he’s scratched this itch and judging by the way Michael keeps drifting back to check on him, the way his fingers linger near Alex’s when he refills the drink, he's not so sure he’s off base.

“What time does the bar close?” Alex asks when Michael comes back from his break, slinging a towel back over his shoulder.

His gaze slides over Alex speculatively. “Two,” he replies. “I’m closing alone tonight, but by two-thirty, everything should be done.” His gaze slides down the bar to check on the other patrons, but apart from a few guys nursing beers and a blonde at the very end sipping her wine, it's calmed down while the kids flood the dance floor. 

“Okay,” is all Alex says as he settles in for the night.

If he gets kicked out at two-thirty and sent on his way, then so be it, but he has a good feeling about this. He nurses his drink so he can stay sober both for whatever might happen later and because his father has taught him to always stay on his guard. Bad things happen when you stop paying attention to your surroundings.

The lights go on at two in the morning, much to the disappointment of the college crowd. Michael watches as the security guards usher them out, shaking his head when the nearest one points to Alex. The other barflies follow in their wake – the guys sipping their drinks, the blonde woman who drags her fingers over Michael’s forearm as she goes – and soon, the music is off, the bar is empty, and it’s just Michael, Alex, and a mess. 

“I can help,” Alex offers, when he feels his heart pounding in his chest for the way Michael hasn’t taken his eyes off of him.

Michael raises his brows like he doesn’t exactly believe Alex. Then he nods with his head towards the trash. “Help me take out the empties, clean up the trash, and I’ll sweep.”

“I can do that.”

Alex lets himself drift into the menial work, grateful that he isn’t obsessing about whether he’s being used for free labor or whether he’s going to get something out of this. It’s fifteen minutes later when the tasks are finished and Michael locks up with them still inside.

Alex raises a brow, his paranoid instincts blaring in alarm.

“Michael…?”

Michael tugs on Alex’s hand, leading them to the supply closet. “I live at least a thirty-minute drive away,” is what he says, and that’s when Alex’s attention falls onto the cot. He can’t remember the last time he screwed around in a back supply room, but right now, he’s pretty sure he’d settle for the sticky bar floor.

He tangles his fingers in Michael’s curls and backs him up to pin him to the wall, grabbing the door to slam it shut, grinning as he lets Michael tumble him down to the bed. 

“This okay?” he checks.

Alex nods eagerly and shoves at Michael’s head so they can get started. It’s not exactly what he’d planned when he came here for a drink, but it also wouldn’t be the first time one of the Manes boys scored at the local bar.

It’s Alex’s turn tonight, and as Michael unzips his jeans and gets to work, he definitely thinks he’s been patient enough to have earned this.

* * *

The next morning, Alex hasn’t slept near enough. He left the bar at four with a promise that he’d come by again later, if he’s still in town, got back to the motel at four-thirty, and got woken up by his older brothers by a stack of books.

“Dad needs research,” they’d said.

Alex had barely made it through the day, subsisting on as much coffee as he could manage, and by the time Jesse summoned them all for the daily briefing, he feels like he’s running on fumes.

It's the usual news on the briefing. They’re in town casing four subjects and they still don’t have information on three of them, but they’ve finally made a break in number four. 

His eldest brothers have been out there pounding pavement and have found out that N-38 is at an abandoned laboratory outside of the city. “Flint, take Alex and run recon,” their father commands. “You two,” he says, to Alex’s other brothers, “keep working on our other aliens, let’s get some facts.”

“C’mon, kid,” Flint says cheerfully, yanking on Alex’s collar as he passes.

“Don’t touch me,” Alex snaps, yanking himself away, not only because he needs to fix his collar to avoid Flint seeing the hickey that Michael had left behind, but also because he hates it when Flint gets his hands on him. 

It's not a secret that he’s gay, but every time his father and brothers are reminded of that fact, they choose to make Alex’s life a living hell for the ensuing few weeks and he’s not really sure he can take that right now. 

“Don’t be so sensitive, Allie,” Flint mocks.

Alex breathes in and out, letting his mind drift to better things. In this case, his best memory is recent, and happens to be the blissful way Michael had smiled when Alex had made him come for the third time, using his mouth to clean up the mess his cock had made after coming inside Michael’s ass.

He can tolerate all sorts of shit from his family with images like that in his head.

“What’s the deal with this one?” Flint asks on the drive there when he’s shifted from tormenting-asshole to hunter-mindset. 

Alex pulls up the file on the tablet, flipping through it to get the background. 

“N-38,” he reads, “has the ability to create a tumor in any living thing with a single touch. So, no contact,” he says, glancing to the back of the truck to see the cattle prod waiting to be used. “We still have any of the power-disabling smoke bombs?”

“Just the one. I need another day in the lab,” Flint complains. “Better save it for the real deal. It’s just recon today, anyway. You know what that means.”

It means pictures, setting up a tracker on the alien, and then sitting back and observing patterns. It's fine by Alex, because this is the only part of the life that he can tolerate. When he’s doing research and recon, he can almost pretend that he isn’t the kind of monster that his father and brothers are. 

He doesn’t kill aliens simply because they _might_ be a threat.

“Here,” Flint says, leaning over and tapping the GPS as they arrive at an old broken-down warehouse. The windows are broken in and the doors are missing. There’s old scaffolding on the sides, from a more optimistic time when people thought they could repair it. 

Alex peers out the windshield to try and get a better look at the place, but the shitty building isn’t the only thing that’s got his attention. No, that would be the fact that they’re not alone.

There’s another truck on the property of the laboratory and it doesn’t look nearly dilapidated enough to be something that someone’s abandoned here. Alex would suspect it to be N-38’s, but from what they’ve heard, he doesn’t have a method of transportation, so maybe he’s stolen someone’s? There haven’t been reports of new tumor cases in town, though.

He has a feeling that someone else has stumbled onto the case.

Alex nudges Flint to get his attention to the truck, frowning. “You think someone noticed us?”

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence,” Flint suggests. “It’s an abandoned warehouse. Anyone could be out here. Kids doing drugs. Artists putting up a weird installation. Who the fuck knows?”

Alex feels like not just anyone would come out here, especially if there’s a dangerous alien on the premises. It’s true that people don’t really know that much about this hidden world, but at the same time, if too many people venture this way and come back sick, he has to hope that people would eventually stop turning up.

Though, that assumes a lot of logic, doesn’t it? 

“I’m going to do a first perimeter walk,” Alex says, nodding to the area. “You load up, I’ll meet you back here before we go inside.”

Flint nods and dismisses him, which gives Alex the chance to get away from his brother. As he walks, he fidgets and adjusts his collar to hide the hickey on his neck, trying to keep his mind on the job and not on what happened the night before.

Luckily, that gets a whole lot easier when things go pear-shaped in the form of raised voices just inside the warehouse. It turns out that they really aren’t alone.

“Don’t let him touch you!”

“Jesus, Max, I get it, I wasn’t born yesterday!” 

Alex glances over his shoulder to see Flint still working to unload tasers and surveillance equipment from the trunk, which means he definitely isn’t the one shouting. Alex keeps moving towards the sound of the voices, muffled as they are from his current position. Slowly, he finds his way up some scaffolding, which gives him a vantage point inside a broken window. He’s able to see their alien, N-38, but he’s unconscious and slumped over on the floor. There’s a tall man, with his back to Alex, looming above him. 

That’s when he sees who the other voice belongs to, someone who is definitely not a stranger.

_Shit_.

That’s _Michael_ pacing back and forth, standing a few feet away from N-38 and definitely wearing a pair of black gloves over his hand. Alex wants to tell him that he’s an idiot and gloves won’t stop N-38 from infecting him, but he can’t exactly do that without blowing his cover, now can he?

What’s even weirder than his one night stand being there is when N-38 starts floating in the air without any help. Frantically, Alex pulls out his phone to consult the case notes, but none of them say anything about him possessing this power. He causes tumors in anything he touches, cancer on legs, but levitation? 

“Shit, careful,” the tall guy says, and they calmly follow the floating alien out of the building.

Alex is breathing heavily, gaping in shock, and that’s how Flint finds him.

“Hey,” he snaps. “I thought I heard voices. Was he alone?”

Alex shakes his head, feeling numb, but when he figures it out (because he doesn’t need Flint smacking him to snap him out of it), he leans up to find that no one is in the warehouse anymore. “Someone beat us to him,” he says, not sure why he feels so betrayed. 

Did Michael only sleep with him because he’d wanted to get information about N-38? That’s not possible. True, the Manes family have a reputation, but he hadn’t given his name and they’re cautious about keeping their faces offline. Not only that, but Alex had brought a burner phone with him that didn’t have any information on it.

Could it have been some wild coincidence that the man he’d slept with was also an alien hunter?

“Fuck,” Flint exhales. “Dad’s gonna kill us.”

Alex forgets about the potential betrayal when reality comes crashing down on the end of Flint’s prediction. Any time they show up without their alien target with them, Jesse’s disappointment will be present, ranging from verbal dress downs to something much more physical. At least this time, both he and Flint failed, which means Alex won’t be bearing the lash of a belt for his failure. 

They hadn’t managed to get a tracker on the alien and, worse than that, he had been stolen from right under their noses.

He’d been stolen by _Michael_. 

That beautiful memory in his head is suddenly tainted in the worst ways.

Flint and Alex stay there longer than they should. None of their surveillance equipment had been set up, they have no images or videos, and no plan to get the alien, because he’s already been abducted. Both of the Manes boys knows what awaits them at the motel and they’re putting it off.

“It was unavoidable,” Flint says, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself. “That’s all. Someone else got there, another set of hunters. You’ll look into it and I’ll ask around town.”

Maybe Alex is willing to let himself be deluded, because Flint’s idea sound fairly reasonable.

Flint starts the truck and they head back to the motel in silence, knowing what’s waiting for them. Once they arrive, they leave their equipment in the truck and neither of them have to say anything for Jesse to know something’s gone awry. 

It’s Alex who steps forward to explain. “Someone else was there. Two men, other hunters,” he says, but he doesn’t give up Michael’s name. He doesn’t even offer to look into it, because the longer he gets to figure out what Michael’s role in all this is, the better. 

There has to be an explanation. He can’t be working against Alex willingly, can he?

Jesse dresses them down for an hour about their failure, but at least he doesn’t lay a hand on them. He dismisses them and tells them that the next job will need to go better or he’ll consider pulling both of them out of the rotation.

Those should be sweet words to Alex, but he knows what that means.

_Out of the rotation_ means isolation time. It means being locked away and made to think about their mistakes. It means being hit. It means proving that he’s a true Manes man. 

It’s that thought that has him in a panic, which leads him to burying himself in research for a whole day, replenishing their cash flow, and then, when he comes up for air, he decides to go after his lead.

Usually, he’d like to have more research backing him up, but when he goes online to search for Michael or other local hunters, nothing comes up. There isn’t a single mention, which isn’t a rare thing. It’s _impossible_ , which means something is at play here and Alex needs to figure it out before his father does.

Even if he’d been beaten to the punch, the last thing Alex wants is for Jesse to take out his frustrations on another set of hunters who had the better luck to get there first.

Eventually, Alex knows he can’t keep poking around online looking for answers that he’s not finding. He has to go back to the source itself and try and figure it out, even though facing Michael after the warehouse is the last thing he wants to do.

Either Michael knows he’s coming and that means he had been wilfully using him or Michael had no idea at all and they’re about to have a problem, because they’re rival alien hunters and Jesse Manes doesn’t tolerate competition when it comes to his hunts.

Alex isn’t sure which option he’s gunning for. 

He heads inside the bar, taking the same seat that he had the first time, two nights ago. Michael’s tending bar, but there’s much less of a crowd this time around. 

“Can we talk?” Alex asks, his voice strained as he thinks about what happened at the warehouse, unable to get the image of Michael standing over N-38 out of his head. 

Michael’s wiping glasses with a towel which he flips over his shoulder. There’s a wary look on his face, but he lets his gaze travel over Alex in a way that makes his cheeks redden no matter how much anger he’s nursing over being betrayed. “Captain Flannel,” he praises with a smirk. “Am I gonna get your name this time?”

Score one for the Manes family tradition of being extra paranoid, because this time it’s helping. 

Rival hunters. How the hell did they run into rival alien hunters on this job?

“In private,” Alex snaps again, with a look that says he’s not leaving until Michael folds. Michael leans over to get someone to cover for him, which is when Alex feels safe enough to head back to that supply room.

Michael ambles after him and either he isn’t reading the threat in Alex’s voice or he just doesn’t _care_. It’s a strike to Alex’s ego to think it might be the latter, but if Michael is an alien hunter, then he’s made of stronger stuff than your typical bartender would be.

Alex pushes inside the unlocked room, ignoring the cot in the corner of the room and how he knows what it feels like digging into his shoulder. 

“Where’d you take him? Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous he is?”

Michael stares at him, clearly feigning confusion and ignorance, but the trouble is that he’s a miserable liar and Alex can see it all over his face. He knows exactly what’s going on, even when he protests with, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The alien! N-38!”

“They have names, you know,” Michael replies sharply. “Where he is, that’s none of your business.” He lets his gaze slide over him and he lets out a rough laugh, shaking his head. “I should have known. I should have fucking known. I didn’t want to think it, but new guy in town at my bar on the heels of news of dangerous alien hunters in town? You five always do stick together like fucking glue. You’re a Manes, aren’t you?”

Alex says nothing, but that’s damning enough.

Michael snorts and shakes his head. “Which one? Huh? The eldest trigger-happy idiots who put bullets through the head of a civilian because she was in the way in Portland? What’s the middle one, Flint? He tortured an alien for hours when he didn’t have to so he could make his Daddy happy.” His eyes slide over him and take him in. “No. Alex,” he says. “You’re all just like your father, aren’t you?”

It’s like Michael’s poured ice down his back with the accusation.

“How many of them have you killed?” he challenges. “How many aliens?”

“None,” Alex says, his voice wobbling.

With his father, it’s a constant source of disappointment that Alex is always the first to volunteer to fact-find, to research, to hack into systems. He always volunteers to do the jobs that keep him out of the line of duty when it comes to neutralizing the threat because he doesn’t _want_ to do it. Suddenly, for the first time ever, it’s not the cause of his fear.

It’s a point of pride.

Michael doesn’t seem to be expecting that, but he’s working it quickly. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care if you do or don’t, but it’s true. This is my family’s legacy, their business.” Alex shakes his head with disgust. “It’s not mine. That still doesn’t mean you get to use me!” he accuses, spitting the words in Michael’s face. 

He’s crowded him in against the wall, his chest heaving. 

Michael raises his hands, protesting. “Alex, hey, whoa. I didn’t know. You didn’t even tell me your name. We had no idea we were encroaching on a Manes case,” he guarantees. “Because if we did, I would’ve bailed. I try and stay away from your psycho father every chance I get.”

Alex stares at him, so confused. “So, you didn’t know we’d be there?”

“No,” Michael breathes out. 

Alex wants to yell more. He wants to rail against his father’s insane crusade. He wants to warn Michael off their territory, because he knows they’re not leaving town just yet. He knows he should be asking who the man with Michael had been, but this close, he can smell Michael’s aftershave and he remembers the way Michael’s fingers had left marks on his hips. 

_Fuck the Manes legacy_ , he thinks, and closes the distance between them to kiss Michael until he’s breathless, sliding his knee in between Michael’s thighs. 

That night is so unlike the first that it’s like they’re different people. Maybe they are? Alex isn’t a stranger looking for a good time tonight; he’s a hunter who wants to exorcise out the torment that his family has put him through. Michael isn’t just some bartender, but an alien hunter in his own right, who knows more than Alex had ever told.

It’s not quite angry, but every kiss and every touch is frantic and desperate, like they’re trying to peel away all the layers until all that’s left is who they really are, but Alex feels like they’ll never be able to learn the whole truth.

He’ll take what he can get.

Alex ends up finding out that the cot doesn’t provide much support to his knees when he rides Michael, that Michael makes the most incredible faces while Alex is sucking him off, and that when they’re curled up together and Michael pushes into him, it makes Alex feel _safer_ than he has in years. 

He knows it’s a stupid thought, but Alex can’t help thinking that if Michael had his back on a hunt, he might go out on them more. 

That night, he stays longer than the first one. Curled up around Michael and holding him protectively tight on the cot, he ends up with a brand new memory to call up when his brothers are trying to make his life a living hell. This one, he knows he’ll cherish, right up until it gets more complicated.

* * *

“N-46,” Jesse says, sliding a new photo up on the wall in the motel the next day. 

This alien is an older man, but if you looked at the picture, you’d think he was your local neighbor who couldn’t harm a fly. Alex isn’t paying much attention because he’s busy replaying the conversation with Michael in his head.

No, that’s a lie.

The conversation is what’s in his head, but all he can think about is what it had felt like to hold Michael through the night, only prying away come morning when the sun had woken him and Alex had made a hasty retreat. 

He shouldn’t have made the mistake of spending the night with him again, but Alex has never felt so alive as he does when he’s with Michael and he’s only known the other man for a few days. He knows that it’s insane, but maybe this is what happens when he denies himself the human pleasures that normal people get to have.

Alex attaches himself to the first handsome cowboy he sees.

“…Alex, are you even listening to me?”

He’s not, but Alex snaps to attention to pretend to be the good little soldier for his father. “Sorry, sir. Can you repeat that?” he asks, hating the way he can feel his brothers glaring at him. It’s Alex’s fault that he’d rather linger in his memories, but he knows he can’t do that for long without consequence.

“After the disastrous result with N-38, I’m giving this one to you, Alex,” Jesse says calmly. “Bring him in and we’ll begin experimentation. Flint says the weapon we’re creating is nearly there, but we need more genetic samples.”

Alex glances around the room, dreading which of his brothers will be tasked to minding him.

“Who’s coming with me?”

“No one,” says Jesse, his tone chilly. “This is a mission for you, Alex, to prove your dedication to the cause.”

That’s not a good thing. 

Alex can feel the attention on him and that no longer means that he can fail at a task without there being consequences. Now that he’s aware of Michael’s hobby off working hours, he has a bad feeling that this hunt, if not done quickly, is going to get compromised.

“Yes, sir,” Alex replies, steeling himself for the job.

If he works fast, moves faster, then maybe he can beat Michael to the punch. He’ll just have to ignore the part where he’ll be bringing an alien back to his family, who won’t exactly be putting out tea and cookies. What’s the alternative, though? If he doesn’t do the mission, then it’s Alex who fails.

His father doesn’t exactly set out those cookies for failures, either.

“I’ll do my best.”

“No,” Jesse corrects, icy calm. “You’ll bring him back.”

That’s the terrifying order that Alex leaves the motel with. He packs up everything that he needs for a hunt, though he already knows he’ll be leaving the weapons in the trunk, apart from the gun he’ll take for self-defense. He’s brimming with panic from the get-go on this mission, but it’s not like he has a choice.

Either he brings the alien back or Alex pays the price for it. With that ultimatum in mind, he heads off, trying not to think about Michael or last night.

It’s time to focus.

The last movement report from N-46 had been downtown in a bad area. The alien had been scrounging through dumpsters to try and feed himself, having had troubles adjusting to society since the crash happened all those years ago. From Alex’s research, N-46 had been in and out of mental asylums, seeing as he had a habit of talking about being from a planet called Antar, far away and in the sky.

Alex thinks that he’d go a little nutty himself, if he got stuck in a prison with pills forced down his throat for telling the truth.

Glancing up from his phone to check the last sighting, he freezes when he hears sounds in the next alley. He’s not alone. Reaching for his gun, Alex steadies himself, hoping he’s not about to interrupt a mugging, but also hoping that his alien target hasn’t figured out that Alex has been tracking him down. 

It’s not going to go well if a powered alien gets the drop on Alex. 

Gun up, Alex rounds the corner and discovers that he’s been beaten to the punch -- _again_. It’s not a mugger and yeah, he’s lucky enough that it’s the alien, but Michael is there again and so is the other man. The alien is unconscious on the ground and for an awkwardly prolonged moment, all anyone does is stare.

Up close, Alex gets a better look at Michael’s accomplice, who seems to take Alex’s presence as a challenge.

“Do you want me to call her?”

_Her_? Alex’s brow furrows as he wonders who the ‘her’ in the equation is, but he has other priorities. There’s an alien on the ground that he’s expected to bring home and he’s outnumbered. 

“Get out of here,” Michael instructs the other man. “I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.”

“G,” the other man hisses, his eyes fixed on Alex and clearly wanting to _do_ something about it. 

“Go, X,” Michael snaps. “I can handle this.”

Alex watches as the other man takes Michael’s order, vanishing from the scene without another word of argument. There are only two real options that will come out of this meeting. Alex has his gun up and Michael is standing between him and his mission. Either he shoots and wounds Michael (or does much worse, like one of his brothers would, to get the job done) or he turns the other way and he fails.

He’s genuinely not sure which one he’s going to do, because the worry about his father’s disappointment if he fails is so frightening that it actually feels like a physical punch. 

Alex doesn’t lower the gun, though it wavers. “Michael!” he snaps. 

Michael turns and gives Alex an apologetic look. The alien is draped over his shoulder, which makes sense given that the alien’s powers might include the ability to create a destructive force out of energy, but not while unconscious. “Alex,” he says. “Are you here alone?”

“Dad wants me to prove something to him.”

Michael’s gaze slides from the gun and then back to Alex’s face. They’re both smart enough to understand what that means.

“You gonna shoot me to prove it to him?”

Alex already knows what’s going to happen, no matter the consequences for him.

“Go,” he says, and lowers the gun. “This isn’t over, between us.”

He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch Michael rushing out of the back alley. He thinks he hears Michael murmur, “Thank you,” to him as he passes, but Alex can’t bear to spend too long thinking about it. “Come and talk to me, tomorrow.”

Jesse had sent him out here to prove himself and Alex has failed, miserably. 

He knows he’ll pay for it later.

* * *

Alex goes to the bar after the night in the alley, as instructed. He’d let Michael go, which meant letting their target go. He didn’t get isolation after that, which is why his ribs are bruised black and blue, and he knows there won’t be a dalliance in the supply closet, not tonight. 

Besides, this time, Michael definitely knew that they were around, and they still made a play for the alien. 

“Who is he? The other man who’s with you on the hunts?” he asks, slumping down in a seat at the bar and trying to compensate for his bruises. It’s early evening, so it’s a completely different environment. There are a few games of pool going on – a few women playing pool, looking like they’re being hustled by a blonde woman, a couple bikers – and a few people drinking and eating food.

The lights are on at full, which gives Alex a better look at Michael.

“What, our reputation doesn’t precede us?”

“No,” Alex exhales, and that’s the most frustrating part of this. “There’s nothing about you online and I’d know. This is my…”

“Your strength, I know.” Michael tips his head to the side, studying Alex. “I asked around about you, in the community. I’ll give it to you, people may hate your Dad and your brothers, but when they talk about you, there’s always a fondness there.”

“I’m not exactly trying to win Miss Congeniality,” Alex snarks, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, well, you’re doing something right.” Michael keeps polishing glasses as he leans forward over the bar. “I’m guessing it’s the usual hunter story. It’s the family business and you didn’t get much of a choice. I mean, I get that, but do you seriously need to dress like they gave you a costume for it?”

Alex scoffs, because that’s rich coming from Michael, who’s currently in a severely under-buttoned flannel himself, and he sees the cowboy hat on the counter behind him. 

“And you? Hunter who works as a bartender,” he says. “Cliché much?”

Michael gives Alex an amused look. “Cute that you’re assuming that just because I tend bar to pay the bills that I’m nothing more than a bartender.” He bends over to dig out a stack of textbooks that land heavily on the bar. Alex studies the spines quickly, and it hits pretty quickly that he’d jumped to conclusions.

“You’re a student at the school too,” he realizes, looking like an idiot. 

“By all means, keep thinking I’m just some idiot bartender,” Michael insists, scrunching up his nose. “I love when people assume I can’t put two and two together.”

Alex feels embarrassed, but that’s not the point of why he’s here.

“You need to stop going for the same aliens as we are.”

“Nah,” Michael responds instantly. 

“Michael, _please_ ,” Alex begs, and he leans forward, but he hisses in mild pain when he does. He can’t outright say that if he doesn’t, Alex is going to keep running into a belt body-first, and he can’t say that if he doesn’t, Michael may run into some of his brothers, who prefer to shoot first and ask questions later.

Michael’s resolve is as steely as ever. “Are you going to hurt them? Experiment on them? Kill them?”

Alex stays silent, because he doesn’t want to lie to Michael, especially seeing as he knows he’s feeling things for the other man that he can’t bear to say out loud.

How can he? How can he explain how quickly he’s falling for a near-stranger, and one who’s been complicating his life to the degree he has been?

“We’re not on the same side, not right now,” is what Michael says, but there’s an offer in those words that Alex isn’t sure how to decipher, at least, not yet.

He grimaces and grabs at the bar, intending to get out of there. They’re clearly not going to agree on this, but the thought of going back to the motel and his father makes him linger, an uncomfortable feeling he can’t shake weighing down his shoulders. Still, he also doesn’t want to stick around here while the students flood the place and make Alex feel even more the outsider, because he doesn’t get a normal life like that.

That awkwardness is what pushes him to try and escape before the bar can get busier. 

“Hey,” Michael calls to him from where he’s pouring a beer down the bar, when Alex has made it off the stool. “Don’t move yet.”

Alex frowns, but settles back in place. He doesn’t know what to expect, but Michael returning with an ice pack isn’t it. He wonders how the hell Michael had known, but clearly his physical movements have been giving him away. Even if Michael’s made it clear that he doesn’t like Jesse Manes, Alex is still panicking and looking for any way to diffuse the attention off his abuse.

“It was an accident, I…”

“Alex,” Michael says quietly. “I grew up in a lot of shitty foster homes. Shut up, take the ice pack, and tell me when you’re ready to do something about that family of yours. Until then, I’m not letting you go back to them. You can stay over here.” 

It's so _kind_ that Alex nearly breaks down on the spot. He reaches out to take the ice pack from Michael, pressing it to his ribs, and wondering what normal people do in this situation. Do they say ‘thank you’? Do they open up and let their whole shitty history come pouring out?

Michael nods towards the hallway, where the supply room and the cot is waiting. 

“I have to close up tonight, but go,” he encourages. “It’ll be a good escape, I think. You can tell dear old Daddy that you were out all night hunting, try and get back in his good graces, but I think you could use a good night of sleep.”

It stings to have Michael throw those accusations against him, but it’s a sad thing when even Michael’s sharpness can’t outweigh the relief of not having to go back to the motel tonight. Who knows if Jesse’s anger has dissipated enough?

He opens his mouth to say ‘thank you’, but Michael has already gone back to his job. Specifically, he’s made sure to go to the furthest end of the bar and has put his back to Alex so they _can’t_ talk.

Alex presses the ice pack a little harder against his ribs and stares after him a long moment before he heads to the back room that he’s grown to know so well. It seems different today, if only because Michael isn’t here with him. Alex paces the room for a while, trying to decide if he should sneak out the back and go.

He’s trusting the kindness of someone he barely knows.

Yet, he likes Michael. He likes Michael more than he thinks he should. 

Alex gingerly sets the ice pack on the nearest table and settles onto the cot. It’s not exactly a plush king-sized bed, but it’s also no worse than the motel beds that he has to share with one of his brothers. He doesn’t lift his shirt to look at the bruising, because that will only remind him of his failure, but instead, he curls up on his side, tugging at a flannel shirt that’s been left.

He inhales, deeply, and smells Michael on the collar along with stale beer and a touch of sweat. It's enough to make him feel safe enough to drift off to sleep, knowing that he isn’t under his father’s roof (even if it’s only a temporary one in the motels). 

Later, when Alex isn’t sure if he’s asleep or awake, he feels the press of warmth against his back. He presses back against it, his sleepy mind hoping that it’s not just the shirt in his hands giving off that smell, but Michael himself.

Even if Michael isn’t there, Alex is going to pretend that he is, and he drifts back into the body’s warmth behind him, letting the feeling of safety and security and _affection_ wash over him for the first time in his life.

* * *

“N-3,” says his father, and Alex’s head snaps up.

What they’ve learned in the course of hunting is that the lower the number, the more important the alien seems to be when it comes to their class system. 

It's a blonde woman. She’s pretty, if you’re into that kind of thing (Alex definitely isn’t, but from the leering on his brothers’ faces, they clearly are). She also looks incredibly familiar and he’s trying to place where he’s seen her before, but nothing is coming to mind. 

“We’ve had reports that she and two unknown alien allies have been interfering in hunters’ missions locally. They beat the hunters to the punch and keep the aliens themselves. We don’t know why. We think it might be to strengthen their ranks in the coming war between humans and aliens.” His eyes track to Flint and Alex. “Is any of this sounding familiar?”

Alex isn’t sure how this could be possible. It’s always been Michael and another man, there’s never been a woman.

“I haven’t come into contact with any woman,” Alex is grateful that he can share with complete honesty.

Flint shrugs and nods. “What he said. I’d remember her,” he adds, and Alex grits his teeth to stop from starting a brawl in the motel for his brother being an ass.

Jesse’s information must be wrong, because of the other glaring error in what he’s saying. _Aliens_. Michael is as human as anyone else. He can’t possibly be an alien. Can he? He’s stuck in his own thoughts, barely noticing that Jesse is assigning tasks to his brothers, but his name doesn’t come up once.

“Securing her would be a coup,” Jesse says. “We can get intel on the ones interfering with the mission and continue our research. Good luck,” he says to his sons, and dismisses them.

“What about me?” he asks defiantly.

“You’ve screwed up enough lately,” Jesse says calmly. “Take a day off, Alex.”

They leave him alone in the motel room, stinging for that reprimand. No matter how much he gets put through, there’s always been a part of Alex that wants to be good enough for his father and to prove that he can be a Manes man, the same as his brothers, but he’s never going to be, is he?

He’s just never going to fit in because he’s not like them. 

Take the day off. Alex is the one who always finds the information on the aliens and he knows that without him, they’ll still get there, but it’s going to take them a hell of a lot longer. It’s so typical of his father and brothers to not realize how much Alex does for them.

With the bruises still fresh on his body, the memory of Michael’s warmth making him feel safe, and that impending breaking point looming on the horizon, Alex knows he has a decision to make. Either he turns in Michael and his accomplice to get into his father’s good books and become a true Manes hunter, or he blows up his life.

He could be crazy and he could throw his family, his legacy, and everything he knows away for someone that he doesn’t even know. How can he? If Michael really is an alien, then Alex has no idea what other secrets might be between them. Yet, Michael had cared for him where Jesse had hurt him; he’d opened up his world to new things in a way no one else had.

And, truth be told, Michael’s not wrong about the Manes methods. 

Alex can’t see himself ever becoming that and it’s his greatest nightmare that one day, he could become _like them_. So, with that thought in mind, Alex does the stupid thing.

He goes with option B. 

When his brothers and father are out hunting for these alien-hunters, Alex goes straight to the source. Michael’s not working at the bar when he gets there, but he asks the other bartender to get a hold of him and tell him that Alex Manes is waiting at the bar and they need to meet, urgently. The bartender working glances at the message and promises that she’ll get it to him.

Even if his brothers don’t have a lead on Michael and this woman, it won’t be that long before they figure it out. Albuquerque isn’t that big a city, so it’s only a matter of time. 

He heads to one of the booths to wait for Michael, his eyes flitting around the bar. He’s hyper-vigilant of every movement near the door, waiting for Michael to enter. What he doesn’t expect is a stranger to suddenly turn up at his booth.

No. 

She’s not a stranger. The blonde woman standing at his booth is the alien that his father has sent his brothers to hunt. By sheer accident, Alex has somehow come into contact with her. Something tugs at the back of his mind, though, and Alex strains to recall the last few days in this town.

He knows, now, why she looks so familiar. 

Alex figures it out like a lightning bolt striking him. “You’ve been at the bar. Every time I’ve been here.” 

The woman looks him over like he’s nothing more than an insect, a studious look on her face. Suddenly, it’s like Alex’s world goes wobbly and bleeding, like someone’s splashed liquid on a setting watercolor, but that dizziness ends quickly. 

“Isobel, stop!” 

“Michael?” Alex asks, feeling like his mouth has been stuffed with cotton. “Who is she, what is she doing here?”

“Don’t touch him,” Michael warns, which is rich, considering that every time they’ve seen each other since the first night in the bar, they’ve fought. Of course, almost every time they’ve seen each other, those fights also end in something else, and Alex has been dreaming about Michael every night, but it’s not like anyone else has to know that. 

And yet, Michael still puts himself physically in between the both of them, kneeling on the end of the booth, one hand behind him and pressed to Alex’s chest to keep him back. Alex could point out that he doesn’t need protecting, but the warmth against him makes him think twice.

“He’s a Manes,” Isobel snaps. “I know they’re after me, you really think they’re going to leave my brother alone just because the youngest one likes to hang around your bar and fuck you?”

Okay, now Alex is bristling.

“I’m not like my family,” he snaps. His eyes flick between Isobel and Michael. “I came here because I wanted to _warn_ you about them, but you clearly already know you’re in danger, which means you shouldn’t be here.” 

Isobel has her arms crossed over her chest and she’s clearly not happy about it, but she pokes Michael in the shoulder. “Deal with this. Make sure we’re safe.” Then she’s off, leaving Michael to his protective stance and Alex to his epiphanies.

All of this is only confirming what Alex has been denying since they’d put Isobel’s picture up on a board. If she’s an alien and she’s related to Michael, then either they’ve got some really messed up family tree issues, or Alex has been sleeping with an alien and hadn’t known about it. Talk about Romeo and Juliet. 

“So, you’re an alien and Isobel is your sister,” he says out loud, still just trying to process any of this. 

“Maybe, but we don’t know for sure.” Michael gently tugs on Alex’s arm to pull him deeper into the booth. “The reason why you don’t have any information on us is because Isobel’s our Alex.” He’s smiling proudly, giving her a warm look where she is across the bar, holding court in what Alex is realizing is _her_ spot.

Alex feels the pieces coming together. “She can influence a person’s mind.” That’s what she’d been trying to do inside of his, he realizes, fingers sliding through his hair like he can somehow try and find whatever it is that she might have gone in for.

“Yup,” Michael agrees. “Most of the time, people are more than happy to take down information about us. If they’re not, she influences them to do something else until they forget about it. It keeps our identities quiet.”

“What are you doing with these aliens? They’re dangerous,” he reiterates.

“We know that,” Michael assures. “We’re not letting them wander around out there, unchecked, but they’re people, Alex. They deserve a chance, too. Humans are violent, too, but we don’t go around erasing them from the picture because of a few bad apples. The ones who step outside the bounds, the dangerous ones, we seal them in stasis pods where they can’t hurt anyone. Think of it like alien jail. Then, once we figure out a way to destabilize their powers with a friend’s help, we let them out and put them back out in society. They’re human, which is punishment enough.” 

Michael says it like it’s the worst possible case scenario in the world. 

“We just don’t _kill them_ ,” he spits out. “Trust me when I say that stripping their powers is shitty enough,” he scoffs. “But once they break our trust, it’s better than the alternative, which is hunters like you.”

“You think I want to do this? I don’t!” Alex snaps. “I already told you! This is my Dad’s fight, not mine.”

Michael shakes his head, like he doesn’t believe him. “You still do it. You still want to feel useful, make a difference in the world.”

Alex’s shoulders sag forward and he stares at Michael, realizing that he could fight back, but he’d be lying. “Is that offer of yours still on the table?”

Michael looks confused, and Alex can’t blame him. He wouldn’t expect him to remember something he’d said in passing, especially given how the stakes have risen so much higher since then. Still, Alex can’t help but hope that Michael had been serious when he’d made the offer and that he’s willing to come through on it.

It seems to click, a few seconds later. “I meant it,” he guarantees, voice subdued. “Tell me what you want to do.”

“You’re not wrong,” Alex gets out the words like they’re physically painful to say aloud. “I do like the part of the job when it feels like I’m making a difference. I don’t agree with killing them, but getting them out of a position where they can hurt people genuinely feels like I’m doing something good.”

Michael watches him, not interrupting, for which Alex is extremely grateful.

“Maybe, if a local UNM student and bartender and his group of hunters were looking for someone else to join their team…” He trails off, because he has no idea whether Isobel and the third would be willing to let a human join forces with them, let alone a Manes man. 

He knows how much he’s asking. He’s not even sure Isobel and Michael’s other ally would welcome him, but Michael had offered and as far as he’s concerned, he’s the only one that Alex cares about.

If Michael wants him there, that’s the only place he wants to be.

“Come back tonight,” Michael says, a fond smile on his lips and a warmth in his eyes that Alex could drown in. “I’ll make sure the others are on board, but I can’t see why they wouldn’t be.” Alex can read the determination in his tone. If they’re not okay with it, Michael is going to make it happen.

He heads back to the motel straight after, but he’s not expecting that anyone will be there. They’ll be mid-hunt, which means they’ll be too busy to notice his comings and goings and Alex will have a chance to get all his things and quietly escape before anyone notices.

He's not expecting Jesse to be sitting in the corner of the room, turning on the lamp when Alex walks in. 

Alex steels himself, knowing that he didn’t have a tail, so this is just his father’s usual paranoia and nothing with any basis of fact. It still doesn’t take away from the flush of worry that pulses through him, knowing that this could go badly. 

“Where have you been?”

“Out,” Alex says, having learned ages ago to be as specific as possible without giving too many details. “I’ve had a rough few days. I needed a drink.”

If Jesse did have someone following Alex, the story will check out thanks to his beeline to Michael’s bar. He keeps his face passive, grateful that he’s become a good liar when it comes to his father. Jesse sinks back into his chair and takes his time to look at Alex, as if trying to detect the lie. 

They stand there, neither moving, neither flinching.

Eventually, Jesse seems to accept it. “Maybe this isn’t the life for you, Alex,” Jesse says, sighing his disappointment out. “Maybe we should send you back to be with your mother. Clearly, you’re not up for the task of being a Manes.” 

He clearly wants that to sting, but it’s the nicest thing that anyone could have ever said to him. 

Alex knows he needs to get moving, and he needs to take the opportunity and opening that his father is giving him to do it. “I’ve definitely been screwing up,” he says, as much as it stings to have his pride take a hit like that. He’s not screwing up. He’s been deliberately making choices and those choices, these days, all revolve around Michael.

Alex moves towards the table, fingers sliding over it until they land on his backpack. Inside it, he knows, are his laptop, his books of research, and his equipment. He’s been taught well by his father, which means that everything he needs to run is in this one bag. 

This doesn’t need to be an explosion. Alex doesn’t need the world to burst into flame for him to make a change. He reaches for his backpack and slings it over his shoulder, contemplating the weight of it and the fact that his entire life is resting on his shoulders right now and it’s not so hard to keep up.

“Maybe you’re right,” Alex says, deceptively calm. “I’m going to go take a walk, clear my head.” 

“When you come back, we’ll have a talk about your future,” Jesse says.

Alex has to force himself not to smile, because he has absolutely no plans to return, but Jesse doesn’t need to know about that.

He lingers at the door, spending one last moment looking at his father. He thinks about the bruises on his ribs. He thinks about the isolation. Then Alex thinks about the aliens that have lost their lives and the innocent people who get caught up in their war.

“I’ll see you later,” he lies, as smooth as ever, and walks out the door without looking back.

Alex doesn’t know if he should feel strange that he isn’t panicking, but he gets in his truck, puts his bag in the passenger seat, and drives away from the motel and the family business in one fell swoop. He needs a moment when he gets to the bar, but he doesn’t regret this.

Destiny can go fuck itself. Alex is making decisions for himself from now on. 

He grabs his backpack in order to head inside, hoping that he’s not about to be turned away. Alex has to hope that Michael’s done his job and convinced his siblings to take him on, and if not, then he’ll head back home, maybe spend the time with his mother after all.

Alex isn’t going to think about that until he has to. After all, he can be persuasive when he needs to be.

He walks into the bar to find Michael, Isobel, and the third man sitting there.

“Hi,” he says, feeling really awkward, but then, this really isn’t something that gets covered in social etiquette examples. “So uh, I’m hoping you’re hiring.” 

For all that Alex has been expecting them to turn him away, it’s Isobel who hands him a drink and squeezes his shoulder as she tells him that she’s looking forward to working with him. She even makes a snide little remark that it will be nice to have someone around that can help her roast Michael. It’s the other man (Max, he learns, when they’re introduced) who sincerely welcomes him to the team and tells him that he’ll meet Liz later. 

It's Michael that’s most important, though. Alex’s eyes are fixed on him like he’s the only thing in the universe, but he doesn’t have to worry.

It's Michael who tugs Alex closer by the hand and kisses him – a kiss full of relief and joy and _desire_ that has Alex dropping his backpack to the ground, pinning Michael to the bar. 

“I guess we’ll strategize tomorrow,” is Max’s sarcastic comment.

“Out!” Michael shouts, muffled by Alex’s lips, clearly more occupied by the kiss and the way Alex’s hands are trying their best to explore Michael’s body in this victory lap of escaping his father’s reign of terror. 

They end up on the cot again, but this time, they didn’t have to fight to get there.

* * *

“Endar Landropp,” Michael reads the name as he hands files to Max and Isobel, care of Alex. He settles on the table nearest to Alex, leaning back against Alex’s hand as he starts rubbing a palm over it. Liz is with them, too, because for the first briefing, the mysterious Liz Ortecho always attends to weigh in on the powers, be on the receiving end of Max throwing heart eyes at her, and then leaves with a challenge to tackle. 

Alex would be amused by it all if Michael were any better, but he’s pretty sure one of the aliens’ traits might be radiating their emotions with a look, given how Michael stares dopily at him every time he presents his research.

“What powers are we talking about?” Liz asks. 

“He can change matter. He’s been using it to commit robberies, but he took two security guards with him on the last job,” Max says, pressing his lips together. “Turned their blood to stone.” 

Alex grimaces, because the mental picture that paints is vivid and terrifying. Years ago, his father would have stirred up fear and terror as the reason why this alien needed to be killed. Now, he knows there’s a better way: remove the thing that makes them dangerous, and if they need to be dealt with further, imprison them and let the human system deal with them.

“We follow the same procedure as always,” Isobel says firmly. “I’ll make sure no one knows we’re going after him, Max gets him unconscious, Michael brings him back. Alex, you want to stick with me or Michael on this one?”

Here’s something else that’s new for him. _Choice_. While there’s definitely no bickering about what needs to be done, no one is barking orders and nothing is ever final. 

“I’ll stick with you,” he says, given that he still wants to get used to the aliens’ procedures. “Make sure there’s no other flags or accomplices in the mix.”

Before anyone can move to start getting ready, Michal pipes up. “One other thing,” Michael says, with a dark smile on his lips. “The Manes boys have been reported in town. Seems like they’re going after the same target.”

Alex can feel all eyes on him, but it doesn’t matter. He’d conquered his fear of his family months ago when he’d decided that hunting down dangerous aliens didn’t mean terrorizing all of them. “Let them try and get there first,” is all he says, because without him, he knows their information will be scattered and half-assed.

Michael grins at him, kissing him on the way out. “Let’s go show them what a real Manes man can do.”

As far as Alex is concerned, he can do _anything_ and he can’t wait to keep proving that to his family.


	2. the hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz mandates that everyone chooses a non-alien case once a year to keep them sharp. For Alex's first case, he picks a ghost, but when his family turns up in town, having a ghost that feeds on vengeful feelings around isn't the best situation to be in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Christi as part of the bday prompt-a-thon!

Liz has a mandate – every year, each of them has to pick a non-alien case so their skills stay sharp. Max has a propensity for vampires (which Michael teases him about because it’s so absolutely up his alley with the whole hard-on for the gothic romantic era) and Isobel loves rooting out incubi to make them suffer. Michael’s a big fan of the cryptid and Liz likes werewolves.  
  
“What about this one,” says Alex when it’s his turn, turning his computer screen to show off the local news from Colorado Springs.  
  
Michael whistles under his breath, digging for some money from his back pocket.  
  
Alex eyes him warily, not sure why he’s doing that. “What?”  
  
“Max bet me that you’d wanna hunt ghosts your first time out,” Michael says, slapping the bill into Max’s hand (who accepts it with a smug ‘thank you’). “I kind of thought you’d wanna do something a little more fun. Mermaids, sirens, banshees.”  
  
“This is all Michael-speak for him regretting his last choice,” Isobel informs him.  
  
Liz is already turning the screen back towards her to take some notes.   
  
“What happened at Michael’s last hunt?”  
  
“Pixies,” Isobel says with a manic smirk. “They put him under a love spell and he had exams to write the next day. He professed his love to the teacher’s assistant in front of the whole class before Liz and I could dose him with an antidote,” she shares, laughing warmly.   
  
She’s expecting Alex to join in, but his jaw is clicking with jealousy.   
  
“Don’t worry,” Michael whispers, kissing Alex’s neck. “I learned my lesson about going after anything that could make you fall in love with someone at first sight, up until I met you.” He bites at Alex’s shoulder playfully, clearly hoping that his charm is working on him.  
  
The annoying thing is that it is.  
  
With that out of the way, Alex and Liz get to research, Max packs up the cars, Isobel books them a motel, and they head out to Colorado Springs to hunt down a vengeful ghost.   
  
The first few days pass without incident. Alex heads to the house that’s purportedly haunted to take a few pictures, Liz reads up on the lore of this particular incident, and Michael gets their weapons ready. Then, on the third day, Alex comes home to disaster.  
  
“What the hell?” Alex exhales, barely managing the words past his gritted teeth.   
  
The motel is only so big, and it’s impossible to miss the giant Humvee in the parking lot. Given that there’s only so many people who have that car and would turn up at an active hunting ground, Alex isn’t surprised to see his father looming outside a room a few doors down, his disdainful gaze fixed on Alex. Behind him, his brothers are unloading weapons briefcases.   
  
“No aliens here, Dad,” Alex says sharply. “Not for you to kill.”  
  
“I think there are some,” Jesse replies, as calm as ever. “We’re not here for them. We were hired by a local client to investigate a haunting.”  
  
Money must be tight, because Jesse hates taking cases outside of his wheelhouse unless it’s absolutely necessary.   
  
It's the first time that Alex has seen him since he walked out on him. He’s not sure what he’d been expecting, both to feel and for Jesse to do. It’s somehow even more infuriating when Jesse eyes Alex up and down, and then decides that he’s not even worth the trouble of a dressing down, which makes Alex want to burst out and provoke him.   
  
“If it’s the one at the Pollard Manor, we were here first,” Alex spits out.   
  
“I don’t think that matters. You’re ineffective, clumsy, and you were always the disappointment,” Jesse informs him. Behind him, he can see Flint snorting, but Alex shoots a glare his way that keeps him moving. “Somehow, I’m not worried.”  
  
Alex feels the rage welling up in him and he wants desperately to sling an insult back at him, but the anger clouds his mind and he can’t think of anything to say. Instead, he’s left fumbling, standing there while his brothers and father lock themselves in their motel room, leaving Alex feeling like the inadequate youngest son that he is.   
  
He slams his hand against the door before digging out his key and heading inside, taking a few deep breaths. Michael’s waiting for him, sitting on the bed, and Alex instantly regrets losing his shit like that, but Jesse has a way of getting to him that no one else does.   
  
“We don’t have to stay,” is the first thing Michael says when Alex comes back inside from his encounter. Alex wonders how long Michael has been lurking, but he’s clearly heard plenty. “This is all practice for us. If Jesse and his boys want to take this on, we can…”  
  
“No,” Alex cuts him off.  
  
Michael raises a brow, sprawling back on the motel bed. “Alex,” he warns quietly. “It’s not healthy for you to be around him like this.”  
  
“We were here first,” he insists stubbornly. “When I walked out on him, it was a whisper and it should’ve been a bang. He deserves to know that I’m better than him. He deserves to feel what it’s like having the rug yanked out from under you. I want…”  
  
“Revenge,” Michael fills in for him. “That’s kind of the problem, Alex.”  
  
“It’s not!”  
  
“We’re hunting down a vengeful ghost who feeds off that energy.” Michael gestures to Alex, then to the front of the motel. “Are you telling me that it’s not going to be a problem?”  
  
“It’s not.” Alex feels like he might be lying, but he doesn’t want to let his father get the better of him.  
  
If they leave, then Jesse Manes _wins_ and there’s no way that Alex can let that happen. He’ll do absolutely anything he needs to make sure he can go on this hunt without causing issues, and he hopes that Michael will be on his side. He knows that it’s dangerous, what he’s doing, but his father has always clouded his judgment.  
  
In this moment, he’s back to being that boy – the one who wants to impress his father, no matter what he has to do.  
  
“The moment that I think it’s dangerous, we’re leaving,” Michael warns, but he’s conceding. Alex can hear it in his voice.  
  
He nods rapidly, cupping Michael’s cheeks so he can bear in and kiss him to show his appreciation, bearing him down onto the bed. “Yes,” he promises. “Of course, yeah, anything,” he insists, and presses more kisses to Michael’s neck, tangling his fingers in Michael’s shirt to start yanking it off.  
  
There’s a voice in the back of his mind asking him why he’s pushing so much, even though he already knows. The way he’s acting, the defiance he’s wielding, it’s all because he needs some finality and closure to his life with his family.  
  
Alex intends to get it, no matter how it happens.  
  
*  
  
The first visit to the house happens without incident. Michael’s actually fairly bored, seeing as it gets to the point that everyone splits up to cover the rooms, but no one finds anything.   
  
They return to the foyer and regroup, with no one reporting any EMF activity or anything remotely haunted. Michael gives Alex an encouraging look. “Hey,” he says, “Just because we didn’t find anything, it doesn’t mean that your Dad will either.” Something on Alex’s face shifts then, flinches, and Michael kicks himself for bringing it up.  
  
He leans in and rubs Alex’s back, kissing his cheek to try and soothe away that ache. Michael’s feeling a little disappointed himself, if only because if the ghost here has already been dealt with, then it’s a long to drive to have to deal with Alex’s shitty family. Liz reaches out to collect all the EMF meters, but Alex beats her to it.   
  
“I’ll process the data,” he assures. “You and Max can head out, have some dinner.”  
  
Liz hands her meter over with a grateful smile. “Thanks Alex, you’re the best.”  
  
Michael guesses that means he’s in for a night of logging and research. He sulks at Alex, but it doesn’t go anywhere, so clearly there’s no sympathy to be had for him. They go back to the motel and luckily, the Manes family aren’t there, so Michael doesn’t have to worry about rushing Alex inside before he can get into another provocation with them.  
  
The night’s pretty boring, as expected.  
  
Alex logs, Michael reads, and nothing even happens because Michael ends up falling asleep while Alex clicks around the internet, then catalogues the weapons, and then goes back to reading.   
  
The next day, things start getting a little weird.   
  
Later, he’ll feel like a complete asshole for not putting the pieces together, but at first he thinks it’s just Alex making a _statement_ in front of Jesse. He starts wearing thick eyeliner, goes out to a local store and buys tight leather pants, and there’s a mesh crop top at one point. It’s very emo, but it also is _very_ (wildly, in fact) attractive on him, so Michael doesn’t say anything. He’s also a big fan of the way Jesse’s face contorts like he’s having an aneurysm when they run into each other.   
  
Michael admires his ass in the tight jeans, he plucks at the skin-tight henleys, and he lets Alex pin him to the wall and make out with him, even in the middle of research sessions.   
  
There’s been no sign of the ghost since the first visit, but they’ve got time and Michael’s not really too fussed about it.   
  
Then it starts getting really odd.  
  
Alex doesn’t want to do any research. Every time they sit down to go over the history of the house or books on the subject, he says that he’s bored and he’s going out for coffee. One time, he comes back with his shirt untucked and askew, which makes Michael wary about what’s going on.   
  
The weird thing doesn’t stop there.  
  
He’s not Alex, not really. At night, he pulls away from Michael’s arms, he doesn’t play the guitar to lull them to sleep, and Max had caught him trying to take the truck for a joy ride. Something’s going on, and Michael’s starting to get scared.  
  
His fear still doesn’t prepare him for what happens next.   
  
It’s the middle of the night and he doesn’t know where Alex is.   
  
He rubs at his eyes and sits up, trying to see if he’s gone to the bathroom, but there are no lights on and there’s no sign of movement, which means that if Alex is in the room, then he’s lying real still on the ground. Grabbing his shirt, Michael pulls on the button-down and manages two buttons before he gets up and tucks the key into his pocket, heading outside. He hears a loud shot, like a car backfiring or a gunshot, but given the rough part of town they’re staying in, it could be dealer’s choice.  
  
“Alex,” he says with relief when he sees him a few doors down. “Babe, hey,” he coaxes. “Are you smoking or something, what are you…?”  
  
The smoke isn’t a cigarette.  
  
It’s a _gun_ in Alex’s hand and there’s a body on the ground. “Holy shit,” he exhales, gaping at the body. It’s Jesse Manes, bleeding out from his stomach and twisting, writhing around. “Fuck!” he snaps, and he hates that he’s about to do this, but he’d never let himself live it down if he didn’t. He storms to the two doors beside his room, pounding on them. “Max! Isobel! Liz!” He keeps pounding his fist, even as Alex swivels to look at them, his hand with the gun raising.  
  
 _Fuck_ , no.  
  
Michael focuses and sends the gun flying out of Alex’s hand. The minute Max opens the door, Michael bolts into the room for the iron bar, heading back out and giving his boyfriend a pleading and apologetic look.  
  
“Michael,” is Alex’s warning, his voice sounding airy and hollow, like he’s not even there.  
  
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Michael tells him, before he knocks him in the back of the head with an iron bar, sending him crumpling to the ground. With Alex (or whatever’s wearing Alex as a suit because that’s _not_ his boyfriend) out for the count, they can focus on Jesse. “Heal him,” he begs Max.  
  
“Don’t you put your hands on me,” Jesse spits out.  
  
“Look, your kids are out on a hunt, right? You’re not going to a hospital because I can’t explain that a ghost shot you and if you think I’m letting you put Alex in jail for this, you’re stupider than I thought,” Michael snaps at him. “So either you die by Alex’s hand or Max heals you. Your choice, asshole!”  
  
There’s a frustratingly long moment where Jesse says nothing, but then he presses his hands to his bleeding stomach and that seems to coax something out of him.   
  
Max doesn’t look any happier to be doing this, but Michael doesn’t need Alex to feel the guilt of killing his father because he’s been possessed by a vengeful ghost. It has to be that, right? If Michael thinks back, he could kick himself for how obvious it’s been.  
  
They’d split up in the house and Alex had made sure to grab the EMF meters. The only person who’d know that there’s activity in the house would be the one being possessed. The rest all falls into place – the clothes, the actions, the way Alex has been succumbing to it. Watching Max heal Jesse, he bends down to collect Alex in his arms, bringing him into Max’s room.  
  
“Liz,” he says roughly. “I need you to douse some ropes in salted holy water and then tie him up. Please.”  
  
Liz looks at him with alarm, her mouth forming questions that Michael doesn’t want to hear.  
  
“Just do it,” he reiterates, feeling exhausted as if he’s the one who’s been possessed by a spirit.   
  
How could he have missed this? How could this have happened right under his nose without him knowing? He helps Alex into the chair and when Liz moves forward with the ropes, Michael shakes his head and holds his hands out for them. He needs to be the one to do this. It has to be.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he says again to Alex’s unconscious body, gently shifting his lolling head so there’s a pillow behind him. He cups Alex’s cheek the once, even though he knows that right now Alex isn’t in the driver’s seat.   
  
The tenderness means more, somehow, because he’s not the one in control. It’s like Michael needs to send whatever messages he can so that Alex knows that he’s not fighting this alone.  
  
“I’m coming to get you,” he vows stubbornly. “I’m not going to let it have you.”  
  
He _swears_ he won’t, because he just found Alex. He’s not losing him so easily.  
  
*  
  
It takes hours before Alex comes around.  
  
He says Alex, but Michael knows it’s not. It all makes sense now, from the way the hunt had gone cold after their first recon, but also Alex’s strange behavior that Michael had written off as them not truly knowing one another that well. He’d known that this hunt was a bad idea, but he’d gone along with it because Alex had seemed to need it.  
  
Next time, he’s trusting his instincts.  
  
“Ready?” Liz asks him quietly, pressing the holy water and the salt to one of his hands, the iron to the other.   
  
Michael shakes his head, not wanting to deal with the ghost that’s possessing Alex, making a hoe of him. He clutches each item tightly and when Alex starts making noises, he steps forward in time to see his eyes go black, opening up and hissing as he wriggles against the ropes.  
  
“What did you do to me?”  
  
“Salted ropes to keep you snug as a shitty little bug,” Michael says. “You don’t have to deal with it, though. Just leave him,” he coaxes. “Get out of him, and then you can feel better.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Michael’s nostrils flare as he inhales angrily. “Get out of him,” he repeats, the only thing stopping him from doing anything more is that it’s Alex. It’s Alex’s face, his voice, and the ghost is using him to make a home, but that’s supposed to be what Michael gets with him. They’ve only just met, but that’s what Alex feels like to him.  
  
It's like home.   
  
He's not ready to let a ghost take that away from him.   
  
“If you don’t leave, we’ll force you out.”   
  
“I like it in here,” the ghost says, wriggling Alex’s shoulders like he’s in a warm and cozy blanket. “He’s full of rage and anger. He wants revenge, always,” it says, and smiles a charming smirk at Michael. “I’m keeping him. We belong together. Do whatever you want, but I’m not letting him go without a fight.”   
  
Michael’s never seen a ghost make a home of a person. Alex isn’t an object or a place. He’s a person. The need for vengeance and for retribution must be so strong in Alex, and his family’s presence here has stoked it.   
  
“I’m not sure what’ll work here,” Michael mutters to Liz once he steps aside. “I’ve never seen an infestation of a person before. I’m <i>not</i> salting and burning Alex.”  
  
“We can drive him out. What about an exorcism? He’s already bound with salted ropes,” Liz says. “We’ll tuck some iron in there, douse him with holy water, say the words…eventually, that thing is going to want out.”  
  
“Okay,” he says, glancing to Isobel. “I don’t care about finesse anymore. Burn the house, make sure this thing has nowhere else to go. Take it all down.”  
  
Isobel and Max go, leaving Michael and Liz to amp up their aggression. They pour a bucket of blessed motel-sink water over Alex’s head, tuck iron pieces into the ropes, and it begins to work. Alex is thrashing around, growling gutturally, and spitting out curses at them.   
  
“He doesn’t want you,” the creature spits out at Michael with Alex’s voice. “You’re only a distraction. You’re something that he’s using to make himself feel like an adult now that he’s outside of his father’s reach.”  
  
“Michael, don’t listen to him,” Liz says quietly.  
  
Michael keeps his head down, trying stubbornly not to let it get to him, but it’s like the ghost has seen inside Michael’s head, not Alex’s, and is unearthing every last fear that he’s been keeping buried.   
  
“He’ll leave you.” Alex’s lips contort up in an ugly smile and he shakes his head. “It’ll be pathetic. You, left all alone by this weakling of a man, consumed by his need to get revenge.”  
  
“You’re a shitty liar,” Michael spits out at him, shoving one last piece of iron vindictively into the ropes, knowing that he has to be careful. If he lets that need for revenge against the spirit consume him, then he could be the next host. Instead of thinking about vengeance, he focuses on his love for Alex, and wanting to do right by him.   
  
It hurts, still, but he thinks that the hurt comes from a place where Michael knows this is happening to Alex because Michael couldn’t protect him.   
  
He should have been louder about not doing this hunt.   
  
He should have never let them split up.   
  
“He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t want you.”  
  
“You know what?” Michael decides that’s fucking enough. “Get,” Michael says, dousing Alex in holy water, “the fuck,” he continues sharply, digging his fingers into the bible as he gets ready, “out of my boyfriend!”  
  
There are some rites and rituals that Michael knows off by heart and an exorcism of a person’s body happens to be one of them. This isn’t a demon, but Michael’s not exactly feeling picky today, as he begins to chant the words, pressing the iron pieces in Alex’s ropes harder against his skin, having to ignore the way Alex yelps and howls.  
  
It’s not him, he reminds himself.  
  
The ghost will do anything it can to make sure it gets to keep Alex, but it’s out of luck, because Michael found him first. Michael’s panting before he finishes the exorcism rite, but with one final throw of the remainder of the holy water, the ghost expunges itself from Alex through his mouth, his nose, his eyes, dissipating out into the air.   
  
It will try and make for the house again, Michael knows.  
  
Hopefully by then, it’ll have been burnt to the ground. Alex slumps over and Michael bolts for his side, landing hard on his knees. His fingers yank on the ropes, but Liz’s hiss of caution behind him makes him hesitate. Only for a moment, though, because then he’s looking up into Alex’s warm eyes, not that of a ghost.  
  
“…Michael?” he ekes out.  
  
“Yeah, babe?”  
  
“Why am I tied up? Are we trying something new and kinky?”  
  
Michael laughs with relief and hauls himself up to press his forehead to Alex’s, closing his eyes as he kisses him, fingers sliding through his wet hair. He’ll definitely have to go over everything with him, but Michael knows one thing.  
  
No more ghost hunts, not for a while.  
  
“I’ll explain later, okay? Let’s just get you out of these ropes and into some dry clothes.”  
  
No ghost is going to take Alex from him, not without Michael putting up one hell of a fight.   
  
*  
  
“Alex, you don’t have to do this.”  
  
“I need to.”  
  
His eyes are still sunken and his face pale, but Alex’s determination won’t be pushed off. Michael still doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but Alex is already moving forward. The Manes are packing up to leave, which is great news as far as Michael’s concerned. The part that’s not as great is how Alex wants to go out there and talk to them.  
  
They’ve just conquered a vengeful spirit. This feels a little like playing with fire just because they didn’t get completely torched the first time.   
  
Is Michael going to deny Alex this chance?  
  
No.   
  
He's also not about to let him do it alone. “I’m coming with you.” When Alex opens his mouth to argue, Michael gives him a pointed look. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until that shitty scared feeling in my stomach goes away.”   
  
That feels like it could be days or _years_ , but until then, Michael needs that closeness.   
  
He helps Alex outside, but he waits until all his brothers are in the car to call out.  
  
“Jesse!”  
  
Not _Dad_ , and there’s no warmth to it.   
  
For a moment, Michael thinks that Jesse is going to leave without acknowledging his son, but he slides the last weapons case into the back before rounding the Humvee to eye Alex and Michael both, standing there with one hand precariously close to the weapon Michael knows is at his side.  
  
He reaches out with his powers, makes sure the safety is on, just so he can feel safe about this conversation.   
  
Jesse waits for them to speak, but whatever Alex has to say, he needs to think about it.  
  
It means Jesse gets the first word: “I’m not saying thank you.”  
  
Michael can tell that’s directed at him, because Alex gives him a confused look. “After I knocked you out, I made Max heal him,” he says, shooting Jesse a furious look. “You’re _welcome_ ,” he says anyway, because he and Max saved Jesse’s life using their alien powers, and he thinks that should get rubbed in his face a little more.   
  
Jesse scowls, looking at Alex. “What do you want?”  
  
“I want to tell you what I should have said years ago. You forced your beliefs on me, your life, and when I didn’t fit it, you punished me,” Alex says. He wobbles slightly, but Michael’s there for him, supporting him with an arm slung around his back. “I grew up scared. I felt alone. I felt like I was wrong, until I met Michael and his family.”  
  
Jesse’s staring at him impassively, while Flint shouts that they need to get going.  
  
“What are you trying to say, Alex?”  
  
“That I’m done with you. I walked out and escaped the worst monster I’ve ever seen, and I was just possessed by a vengeful ghost who wanted to take me over and use me until I was a husk.” Alex cocks his head to the side. “You’re still worse.”  
  
If someone had said that to Michael, he might have crumpled up and used his powers to let out his rage.  
  
Jesse Manes looks at him, then to Michael, and he decides that he’s not worth it.   
  
“You’re not a Manes anymore,” is all Jesse says.  
  
“I never wanted to be one,” Alex guarantees. “I don’t want to see you again. Next hunt we run into one another, you leave,” he says. “You owe us, after all. You owe Max your _life_ ,” he adds with a smug finality that has Jesse bristling, but not arguing.   
  
If Jesse had the first word, then Alex has the last.  
  
Jesse’s gone without any further protest, and when the Humvee has vanished over the horizon, it’s like the relief courses through Alex, making him crumple. Michael’s there for him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He knows that Alex had looked calm, suave, and collected, but that Alex is also stronger than his father ever gave him credit for.  
  
“You okay?” Michael asks quietly. “I know that wasn’t easy.”  
  
“Nope, definitely not,” Alex agrees, and Michael can see the tears in his eyes. “But I gave a vengeful spirit a home because of my anger at my father. It wanted to consume me whole because of what I couldn’t let go. I needed to do that. I needed to call him the monster he was and then I needed to let go.”  
  
Michael knows it won’t be that easy. He won’t be able to let him go instantly, but the important part is that he’s taken his first steps down that road.  
  
“So,” Alex asks, lump still in his throat from how his words catch, “where are we going next?”  
  
“Home,” Michael says. “We’re going home for a while. You okay with that?”  
  
Alex gives him a relieved smile, turning into Michael’s hold so he can pull him in. “That sounds perfect to me. Home,” he echoes. “With my family.”


End file.
